


heat & frosting

by donutwolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anniversary, Belly Kink, Cake, Chubby Malia, Established Relationship, F/M, Feedism, Stuffing, Teasing, Texting, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 17:24:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11235711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutwolf/pseuds/donutwolf
Summary: It's the eve of their anniversary, and Malia is waiting for Stiles to get home so they can start the celebrations. She ends up taking a head start, lured in by the pink swirls on top of her cheesecake.





	heat & frosting

Malia knew she had gone overboard the moment she started unloading her groceries from the car. 

She had made several stops, picking up this and that, and stashing everything at the backseat, not sparing much thought on how it all stayed put while she drove around the town. But now, safely back on her own driveway, she wished she had paid more attention to packing everything up with better care. 

It was a mess. A big, scattered-in-all-directions kind of a mess. Which, okay, probably told more of her driving style than her packing skills. Huffing to herself, Malia picked up the nearest bag and started refilling it with food.  

Cookies. Bread. Brownies. Cheese. There was an assortment of nuts, salted and roasted, and a couple of bags of chips with a tub of dip to go with them. There were vegetables and fruits and even more bread, and enough drinks to keep a whole family well hydrated for a few days. She stuffed everything she had bought back in the bags, lifting them out to the driveway one by one.

Finally, she stood up and let out a long breath. It was a hot day, especially for this late in the fall. She had switched out her soil-crusted overalls after her shift at the garden center had ended--she would rather avoid a heat stroke while doing her food shopping. But even in just the long top and shorts combo she now wore, she felt like overheating under the heavy beams of the afternoon sun. 

She arched her back, belly pushing forward as she worked out a kink; she tugged her shorts up and pulled at her top, then glanced down at the pile of groceries at her feet and sighed again. She needed to get a move on before everything spoiled in the heat. 

Just as she was wondering if she could make it all in one trip, she remembered the cake.

“Oh, Jesus _ fuck,  _ Malia,” she groaned to herself.  

Stiles had told her to get the goods, but--she had  _ definitely  _ gone overboard. 

 

 

 

Once all the bags were inside, she went back for the cake. She had picked it up last from her favorite little bakery, and since the back seat had been full by then, she’d had it precariously perched on the front seat. It had only been half an hour or so, but it looked like it was already starting to suffer from the heat; the chocolate that covered the edges was sweating slightly, tiny beads of condensation forming on its dark skin. Her eyes lingered on the pink and white swirls decorating the top of the cake as she carried it inside; she could hardly keep herself from ripping the box open, it looked so damn  _ good _ .

But no, this cake was for her and Stiles. Even if it was her favorite--chocolate and strawberry cheesecake with thick creamy layers and oh so much sweetness--she had bought it for  _ them _ .

Malia couldn’t help smiling as she thought of the weekend to come. Tomorrow was their second anniversary since getting married, and even if a vacation was out of the question (because neither of them could really afford it, and they both had work next Monday, anyway), this weekend was going to be devoted just for the two of them. 

And, well,  _ food.  _

She arrived back in the kitchen with the cake still safe and sound in its box-- _ a miracle for the ages _ , Stiles would probably call it with a glint in his eye; he always had a thing or two to say about Malia’s appetite. 

She felt warm just thinking about it--and then she almost tripped on the load of groceries still waiting to be relocated to the fridge. “Fucking. Ugh,” she grumbled, setting the box carefully on the kitchen counter before getting to work.

Except her work drive pulled to a full stop when she opened the fridge door and saw  _ another  _ cake sitting in the middle shelf. A beautiful, flower-topped (as in  _ actual, real flowers _ ), cream-coated cake, all done up in lavender with silvery white decorations on top. It looked like a work of art, almost unreal, too pretty to be eaten _.   _

There was a pink post-it note attached to a milk bottle next to it, with Stiles’s all too familiar scribbling on it:

_ Hey babe,  _

_ I know you probably want to eat this all right now but save some for later ok? Wouldn’t wanna miss it... Kiss ya xxx  _

Malia was glad that Stiles wasn’t there to see her face; she was  _ beaming _ when she picked the note off the carton and gave Stiles’s signature a soft smooch.  _ He had gotten her a cake-- _

Wait.

Malia turned around, eyes focusing on the box resting on the counter. She had  _ two  _ cakes. The thought made her mouth wet--Stiles had specifically asked her to get the cake, while he’d had another one ordered up in secret, just so he could surprise her with it? That sneaky bastard. 

And yet, she could feel her stomach rumbling as she looked from one cake to the other, feeling hungry just from _looking_ at the gorgeous lavender of Stiles’s cake. There was more than enough to spare now, wasn’t there? She could definitely have a little slice, just a tiny taste, because she _needed_ some soft creamy cake goodness in her belly right _now,_ okay? Malia licked her lips; she could almost taste the sugar on her tongue, and the kisses that would follow... 

Her mind racing forward, she thought about Stiles feeding the cake to her later, feeding it  _ all _ to her (and  _ oh, god, it would be so hot, she could hardly _ wait)--and that somehow gave her back her self control. With one last lingering look and a heavy sigh, Malia forced herself back to the groceries and did  _ not  _ stick her face in cake. She could wait a few hours until Stiles got home.

Of course, just when she bent down to pick up one of the bags, her belly gave a whine, treacherously reminding her that she had barely eaten since lunch. That had been a whole three hours ago and she had barely had time for snacks, so even with the sandwich she’d had since leaving work, she was already  _ starving. _ “Quit whining,” she said, patting her grumbling belly. “You’ll get fed soon enough.”

But halfway through the task, Malia realized that she had truly bought way too many things. The fridge was  _ packed _ before she had even gotten to the last bag. After 10 minutes of juggling things around and taking out everything she could think of to make more room, she had to admit defeat. No matter what she did, she couldn’t fit everything in. Which left the cake on the counter...

She turned around on her heels, closing the fridge with an impatient slam, and stalked across the kitchen like a predator. She gave up, she  _ quit _ \--the cake wouldn’t survive in room temperature much longer anyway and she was  _ hungry,  _ okay? Malia all but ripped the cake box open and shoved her face in close to catch sweet scent in her nose. 

It smelled  _ divine. _

She quickly grabbed a spoon from a drawer nearby, then returned to her cake, pausing to fish her phone out of her shorts pocket. She snapped a picture of the pink and white swirls on top of the cake and sent it to Stiles, typing,  _ “Can’t fit this in the fridge with the OTHER CAKE BEING THERE OMG so I’m just gonna eat it before it spoils... _ ” 

She grinned. She knew Stiles was still busy at work, but hey, she was allowed a little teasing. It was their anniversary, okay? Satisfied, she made a start at the cake, but Stiles’s reply was too quick; her phone chimed before she could even cut into the top and with a whine, Malia picked it up again.

_ “What do you mean can’t fit in the fridge?? How much food did you buy Malia oh my god... Fuck babe I’m still at work can’t u wait two hours????” _

Malia snorted. No, she most definitely wasn’t going to wait two hours, but--maybe she didn’t have to? Her lips curling into a smirk, she quickly snapped a selfie posing with her spoon. “ _ DYING of hunger this cake is a GONER. How about you try n make it home before I finish it yeah? Winner gets to make the next bet.”  _ She added a load of emojis after her text, waiting for Stiles’s reply before--

_ “Oh my god you wench. I’m omw jfc you’re ON.” _

She couldn’t wait any longer. Grinning, she flung her phone down and dug into the cake and  _ fuck _ , she wanted to  _ moan  _ at the taste. She spooned in more, humming with her mouth full of cake; it was just so perfectly delicious, just as rich and thick and creamy as she had wanted it to be. She cut off another big piece from the side, loving how the chocolate cracked under the weight of the spoon; she paused for a moment to admire the soft pink and cream layers inside the cake before letting the sweetness melt in her mouth. God, she was ready to  _ inhale _ the rest.

Malia checked the time--she had at least half an hour before Stiles could get there, and she was going to make a run for it. Figuratively. She sucked on her spoon, rubbing at the side of her belly eagerly. “See? I told you you’d get fed soon.”

After that, she let her instincts take over and started shoveling the cake in her mouth with the practice of a champion eater. The soft texture of the cheesecake made it easy to swallow, spoon after spoon, all going into her gut. She kept touching her belly while eating, feeling the big roll that bulged over her shorts growing bigger as she ate, expanding almost as quickly as the cake disappeared from its container. 

Malia made it almost halfway through before she realized she needed a drink. She still had fifteen minutes left, give or take some depending on traffic, but it was plenty enough time for her to finish the cake. So she went and she poured herself a tall glass of milk from the fridge. She took a long drink before refilling the glass, then padded back with a hand pressed against her swollen belly, small burps bubbling up her throat as she walked. 

After checking the time (no new messages from Stiles), Malia set her phone on selfie mode again and propped it up against the milk glass, and lifted up her top.

“Ah, Jesus.” 

She--okay, she knew the summer had given more than it had taken from her. After all, she had been gaining with intention since the beginning of it, for  _ months  _ now, and the fall had changed nothing in her eating habits if not increase them. But even as a feedee, you still got those holy-shit-I-look- _ fat  _ moments and, well. This was one of those for Malia.

She kept the hem of her top up as she turned in front of the camera to see her fatness from different angles. Even if she wasn’t  _ that _ full yet, she looked  _ huge _ . The shorts she was wearing looked like they were being engulfed in fat, with her blubbery muffin top pouring over at the waist and her thick thighs eating away the legs. Malia made a sound, tucked her top in her bra to keep it up, freeing her hands to travel over her bloated belly. 

She loved how fat she was getting--she felt so  _ hot.  _ She loved how her belly grew when she ate big, curving out below her chest like she was pregnant with food. Her hips had grown wide, her belly lined with stretch marks and her thighs chunky, and she  _ loved  _ it. 

With a rough hand to her gut, she let out a couple more burps, easing her stomach before taking some shots of herself--belly roll hanging over the waistband, check; hands grabbing wads of flabby flesh; check, jiggly belly bent over, check... Then she sent the best ones to Stiles, with no comment attached. 

With a satisfied smirk, Malia pulled up a stool and sat down, focusing back on the cheesecake. She should probably be feeling more full after eating half of it already, but she found herself with plenty of room left as she continued eating, feeding herself almost mindlessly, spooning the soft sweetness into her greedy mouth. It was already getting warmer, not as crisp as it had first been, but with regular gulps of milk, it all went down smoothly.

She soon found herself scraping the last bits of the cake onto her spoon, and blinked; had she really--

Just then the front door slammed open, startling her so that the contents of her spoon fell back to the container. Malia didn’t even have time to say anything before her husband came crashing into the kitchen, skidding to a halt when he spotted her; he looked flushed, cheeks as red as the t-shirt he wore under his open plaid. 

“Oh my  _ god,  _ Malia, you fucking  _ tease,  _ I swear to god--” 

Stiles hurried across the kitchen while the words tumbled from his lips, his hungry eyes scanning the scene as he came by her side. He barely glanced at the empty cake box on the counter; he was too busy looking at  _ her _ . 

“Did you finish it?” 

His voice husky, hushed in the sudden quiet, but the demanding squeeze on Malia’s belly betrayed his eagerness to get an answer; his hand had found the swollen top of her stomach and pressed firmly against the exposed flesh--she had forgotten to pull down her top after taking pictures and okay, yeah, that probably explained some of the heat in Stiles’s gaze. 

Malia glanced down, following his eyes-- _ god,  _ she could barely see her shorts at all with her belly covering her lap. She must really be a sight--a porked up new wife with a fat food baby belly resting on her lap, tan flesh smeared with stretch marks and cake crumbs, lips covered in frosting… She laughed, feeling breathless and giddy, and not just from the sugar rush. 

“ _ Of course _ I did, baby,” she said, turning to face Stiles so that she could pull him between her big thighs; it took more effort to move than she had expected, and  _ fuck _ , how did her shorts suddenly feel like they were about to cut her in half? She felt tingly with embarrassment, but it was  _ hot _ , and so worth it to get her hands on Stiles’s hips, his hands rubbing and measuring her cake stuffed belly in a familiar pattern.

“You know I always finish my meals,” she said in a soft purr, tugging at the lapels of his plaid shirt to try and pull him down for a kiss, hands teasing the little pot belly on his waist.

“ _ God,  _ Malia...” 

She could  _ see  _ him trying to take it all in; Stiles’s mouth was hanging open, his eyes darting up and down her fat body. He exhaled a shuddery breath and kissed her, hard and open on the lips. She leaned against him, against the feel of his hands, humming into the kiss when she felt him jiggling her flesh, his fingers gaining purchase on her soft belly roll. 

He pulled up just enough to look at her, and gave her a dazed grin. “I would propose to you on this very spot if I wasn’t already married to you,” he said in a rush of words, his cheeks blushing red. 

She pulled him in for another indulgent kiss, grinning coyly. “Well, you  _ could _ always propose to giving me a belly rub...” She nipped at his lower lip with her teeth. “I mean, I  _ did _ win the race, fair and square.”

“That you did, greedy baby,” Stiles murmured, his words making her shiver.

She was all set to receiving her prize when Stiles glanced over her shoulder, squinting at something. His brows furrowed, he pulled away to inspect the empty cake box. 

“Well, talking of fair and square--” 

Stiles’s eyes returned to Malia’s, and there was that familiar glint to them, the one that usually bode trouble for Malia. He was fighting back a smirk, and failing. Badly. 

“--looks like you were  _ just _ a couple of pieces away from finishing.  _ So close!  _ But no dice. No, nope, I wouldn’t call that finished.”

Her mouth fell open; she made an indignant sound, punching Stiles on his side. “ _ Crumbs  _ don’t count, you fucking nitpicker.” She huffed, but... she wasn’t really that upset. She’d had her cake, and she was  _ going _ to get her belly rubs too. Win or lose, she knew Stiles couldn’t deny himself that.

Stiles laughed, straightening up again, and just like Malia had suspected, his hands wound back to set claim on her belly. “Well, you do look a few bites away from  _ exploding _ out of those shorts, baby...” He poked his finger at the pudgy swell of her stomach, then dragged his hand along the underside, trying to find the waistband buried deep under her flabby belly.  _ “ _ Is  _ that _ why you couldn’t finish the cake, hmm?”

His touch made her shiver, but--she knew he liked a challenge. “Oh, fuck off.” She arched her back to show off the bloated curve of her gut, grabbing her belly roll and jiggling it against his hands. “Here’s another _proposal_ \--you make me dinner, and I _bet_ you I can finish that too.” 

Now that got his attention. Stiles swallowed, lips parting, his eyes glued on her rippling belly. “And if you  _ can’t _ ? I mean, I’m planning on making tacos and you know how I cook, you can’t...” He trailed off, squeezing Malia’s belly between his hands, thumbs tracing her stretch marks. “You did just eat a whole fucking cake, babe, holy  _ fuck. _ ” 

“Mmm, well, winner makes the next bet,” she said, breathless with desire and fullness. She felt warm, and  _ good,  _ and she wanted to prolong that sweet feeling of anticipation until Stiles had fed her well and  _ truly  _ stuffed, so full she could barely  _ move _ . 

“I thought we were still contesting that win.”

Stiles’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he looked into hers, and his hands kneading her soft belly grew greedier with their touch, rough in a way that fired the blood in her veins with lust. 

She could tell she had already won.

“Contest all you want,” she said, dragging him in for another kiss with a hand at the back of his neck. “Just make sure you get to cooking soon--that cake won’t keep me full for long.”

She felt his moan against her lips, and yeah, that was all the prize she really needed. Win or lose, she already had him. 


End file.
